Oyasumi Nasai (Good Night)
by IC-Chan aka.Imagination Child
Summary: "I just want to say one more thing." She began as she brought her attention back to the phone. "I lov-"... The hardest thing to do is to let go of dreams and to accept the turth. But maybe... just maybe, if don't say good bye, just good night...


_Author's Note: I guess you could say that this fic is based on personal expierence. This is my first CCS fic, so I'm not sure if I'll do justice to the characters, I'll let you be the judge of that. Oh, and don't flame me for not having the most original plot in the world. It's just something I felt I had to write. Anyway, review and enjoy. ~IC-chan_

  


**Oyasumi Nasai**

  


The dial tone was a sad sound. It was monotoned and so electronic as it rang in her ears. 

It was twelve at night, too late for most people to be on the phone, but it was the middle of the day in New York. "I'll definitely be able to catch him... this time." She thought as she twirled the lavender cord around her petite fingers. 

"Hi... Otosan. Uh, it's me, Tomoyo." She was nervous, it was evident in the way her voice quivered. She was a confident child, to an extent anyway. That is she never doubted her skills and what she was capable of doing. But he would always take that confidence away. He just had that effect on her. It wasn't intentional, at least she had hoped it wasn't, it was just that he was... a stranger. To say the very least. 

"I wanted see how you were doing. To tell you what I've been up to. I know you are busy and that's why you haven't called." It was easier telling herself stories than to accept the truth. 'He is a busy man. A successful man. Mom's the exact same way.' She would tell herself at nights when she felt her loneliest. Somewhere inside she knew that was all a lie though. On cold nights, when the realization would hit her, she would huddle against a pillow in her massive bed. Trying to block the truth. 'It can't hurt, if you ignore it.' She would think, while silent tears slid down her ivory face. 

"I am the lead soloist in the school chorus!" She said enthusiastically as she cuddled the phone to her face, "Kyoshi-san says that I have a true talent." Her cheeks turned a pale pink, as she boasted on. She was so humble, never one to brag about herself. 

"Maybe you can come hear me sing one day. " The last line came out as a faint and hopeful whisper. Her eyes looked down cast and distraught, knowing that day would never come. 

Cool air brushed against her face, sweeping the smokey strands of her hair against her pale cheek. She had such a dark loveliness. A sort of nocturnal beauty. She didn't shine, not like Sakura did. Sakura was like a golden rays of sunshine. The embodiment of warmth and energy. But Tomoyo was a more subtle beauty. She was the human reflection of a full moon's glow. It's silver blended with her skin, and it's diamond stars mirrored her dark eyes. Again the cool air rose and carressed her hair gently. The night seemed so fitting for her. 

Who'd guess that she was an exact resemblence to him. Well, at least she owed her eyes to him. The hair was another thing, she had figured that was of some other distant relation. She thought back to the last time the had met. It was a fluke that it even happened. She accompanied her mother on a business trip to London. Who'd guess that while dining in a small Italian Cafe, she would see him. The black hair and dark blue eyes were unquestionably his. She couldn't mistaken him for anything in the world. Her mother had fallen unusally silent, but Tomoyo was thrilled. She recalled how reluctant he was to notice them, and how he quickly left them. It hurt her. She didn't even notice the hurt expression on her mother's face. 

"Okasan... is doing fine. She's out of town on a business trip, but don't worry about me. I'm used to being alone." The final word came out in a stifled sniff. 

"So, how's life in New York? I've always wanted to visit New York. Maybe, Okasan, will let me visit you and we can tour New York together. Wouldn't that be great?" Somewhere between visit New York and tour, a dream had taken over reality. She had slipped and let her imagination take the reigns. Gradually she caught herself and cleared her throat. There was no need for such behavior. 

"Otosan, it's getting late." She padded over to the clock that sat on her night stand. The hem of her dark purple pajamas sweeping against the carpeted floor. She smiled, pathetically, "It's 12:35." She read aloud into the phone. "I have to go to school in the morning." 

Gently she placed the clock on her night stand, and then flopped down onto her luxurious bed. She had to admit, she had it all. More than any child could ask for. Wealth, luxury, spoiled beyond her dreams... she giggled at the last part. 

She quitely folded her legs, and sat indian style in the center of the bed. She seemed so tiny in the large bed. She glanced to all sides, she couldn't even look over the edge. 'Why would someone need all this room? Mom, over did it.' She thought to herself, shaking her head. 

"I just want to say one more thing." She began as she brought her attention back to the phone. "I lov-" 

"If youwould like to make a call please hang up and try again." The recording, like the dial tone, was monotoned and electronic. It was cold and unfeeling, and it startled Tomoyo as it abruptly interrupted her. 

"If you would like to make a call..." It repeated as she held the phone to her ear. She had no reason to be surprised, but for some reason she was. Somewhere along the line she had honestly convinced herself into thinking she was talking to her father. 

The click was soft as she hung up the phone. The silence washing over the entire room like waves against the shore. It was broken only by her soft sniffling as she fought desprately to hold back her tears. 'Didn't even have the guts to dial the whole number.' She thought angrily to herself. 

A few defiant tears fell from her dark navy eyes, and she mentally scolded herself for being so weak. It had taken her a moment to regain her compsure, but once she did she slowly climbed under the soft blankets of her bed. The sheets were inviting and gentle as she lain staring into the blank ceiling. 'Maybe I'll paint a mural on the ceiling.' She thought to herself. It could use a bit of color. 

Sleep had finally taken hold on her, and she could feel her eyelids grow heavy. She took one final look at the phone as it still sat in her bed. She was too tired to put it on the night stand. "Oyasumi nasai... Otosan." She whispered, a few more warm tears tracing down her lovely face. 

  


_Author's Note: I'm not sure if it's very good or not. I used as much detail as I normally do, and I put my all into it, but I don't think I worked to my fullest potnetial. It's kinda sad, huh? Sucks to think that it is based on truth... which it is. I hope you liked it, I know I didn't go into depth with Tomoyo's character, but I hope that I did do her justice in this fic. I'll stop babbling now, please review and tell me what you think. ~IC-chan_


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